


Dancing with Opportunity

by justhuman



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Angel Book of Days Challenge, Gen, Pre-Series, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-05-17
Updated: 2004-05-17
Packaged: 2017-10-28 19:16:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/311305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justhuman/pseuds/justhuman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Holland Manners is on a recruiting trip for Wolfram & Hart at a law college where Lindsey McDonald is a first year student.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dancing with Opportunity

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Aurora during the Angel Book of Days Spring Challenge

 

 _Men who are resolved to find a way for themselves will always find opportunities enough; and if they do not find them, they will make them._ \- Samuel Smiles

"Nice suit, Jackson." It was laughable--The guy thought wearing a pair of jeans instead of sweats was 'getting dressed up' and yet Jackson was choosing to become a lawyer. Still, the suit looked like it was a nice one -- his girlfriend probably picked it out.

"Well, McDonald, not all of us can wear an apron like you."

Lindsey smiled, thanking god once again that he didn't have to wear a hair net. At the same time he cursed the bastards that had decided to renovate the east entrance of the law library this semester, which took away not only a much better workstudy job, but also paid for study time and a side job of law-clerking for some of the professors. Taking a big spoonful of candied yams, he put them on the white institutional plate and poured on some extra syrup. Lindsey was willing to bet good money that Jackson was going to be wearing those yams by the end of lunch.

"Lindsey, take those dessert trays up to the faculty dining lounge."

Manager wanted him off the line, and Lindsey didn't hesitate. Dropping the big spoon, he pushed up the brim of his cap so he could take a swipe at the sweat running down his forehead. If he planned this right he could get back in time to sign his time card and get the hell out of Dodge without washing any dishes.

Snagging a noisy metal cart, Lindsey loaded the trays and snagged a fork; the carrot cake was looking good. On the way up the elevator, he did the math in his head, enough money from workstudy to keep him in pizza and beer, ahead of the curve on his exams so the academic scholarships were still good standing. All in all, he had more than a poor boy from Oklahoma had a right to expect.

It wasn't enough.

But that was okay because San Francisco was a big city and if you knew your way around there were opportunities to be had for a man with a big smile and a tight pair of jeans. Downing two pieces of cake before the elevator hit the eleventh floor, Lindsey tucked the nice china dishes under a napkin on the lower shelf of the cart. A far cry from the slop down below, the leftovers on this floor were going to be worth snagging for dinner. For a moment he considered that this job might not be so bad if it got him free food, but that was short-term thinking. Feeding your belly now didn't build a future for you. Being able to say that you clerked for some of the bigger name professors was at least something to put on a resume.

Based on the welcoming signs, this group was recruiters from different law firms. It wasn't surprising--that was what spring was like on every college campus--a bunch of 20-somethings, putting on their first suits and getting a chance to show their stuff. Except Lindsey had seen some practice interviews, and he knew that there wasn't a hell of a lot more going on then proving they could sit up straight and remember their own names.

Slowly Lindsey loaded up dessert on the table and began clearing away the lunch. This was an opportunity if he used it right. There were all these guys with the power to give a good job, standing around advertising themselves and their firms with name tags clipped to their front pockets. It wasn't like he was going to strike up a conversation, _Hi, I'm Lindsey McDonald and I was hoping for better than slinging hash in the law school cafeteria._

No, this was about sorting out who's who. Sure, a job was a job, but the fact of the matter was that some of them were a hell of a lot better. Paid more, gave you a reputation. Lindsey had already figured out things in his second semester that Jackson, who was about to get out, hadn't managed to work out. Most guys left law school and went into a firm as slave labor, kissing some old guy's ass hoping to get ahead. It wasn't like Lindsey minded doing a little grunt work to get ahead as evidenced by his current job, but if he was going to kiss some old guy's ass, well he had a rate chart. Rimming wasn't cheap.

"Stefan, Hasting Law School is one of the best in _our_ country. The fact that it's not far from the Los Angeles Branch office means that we have an exceptional local pool to pull from."

Nice suit. Holland Manners, Wolfram & Hart, Los Angeles. Just as nice a suit was on Holland's friend, Stefan Andropolis, Wolfram & Hart, Athens -- and Lindsey was betting that wasn't Athens, Georgia. International corporation--that was an entirely different level of being in the game. These guys obviously had money and special needs because why else was a Greek law firm be recruiting in California.

Stefan didn't have a nice laugh. "Holland, Holland! I think that you're accusing me of being a poacher."

Holland's laugh sounded fake, forced but he didn't seem intimidated by Stefan at all.

"My dear friend, if you can find a lawyer coming out of Hastings that is prepared to pass the equivalent of the Bar in your country, then I wouldn't stand in your way. If you're looking for someone bright, ambitious who can think outside the box -- well, I'm sure there are plenty of qualified candidates on the other side of the Atlantic." Holland picked up a slice of carrot cake.

Clapping Holland on the arm, Stefan gave a genuine laugh this time. "I don't know about you but all I've met today are many fine men-- and one woman-- who will happily go gray asking for signatures, here, here and at the bottom of the next page. Is that good, what you're eating?"

"Yes, people who've gone to a lot of time, effort and education to be ordinary people. It's good carrot cake; the icing is a little sweet."

Stefan frowned. Lindsey didn't hesitate. "I could go to the kitchen and bring back some fruit. I'd offer some cheese but I'm sure that you'd find the selection disappointing."

"There!" Stefan gestured at Lindsey, nodding emphatically. It looked to Lindsey that Holland had no idea what this guy was talking about. "This waiter has more initiative than any so called lawyer we have met today."

Embarrassment touched with a little bit of life-long rage bubbled up inside Lindsey. He did the only thing he could think of and that was smile. "Thank you, sir. Actually, I'm a student, paying off my education. If you don't mind me saying so, I understand what you gentlemen were speaking about. It takes something extra to step above what the expectations are for you."

Stefan was nodding and smiling. Holland was sizing him up.

"So, do you have good grades?"

"Top ten percent of the class - you can't keep your scholarships if the grades slip. I'm finishing up my first year this semester."

"Very good." Unabashedly, Stefan was looking Lindsey up and down. "And so, you do what it takes to get ahead?" Lindsey knew the look and knew how to charge top dollar to fulfill whatever little fantasy Stefan had going on behind his eyes.

"I'm Holland Manners, Wolfram &Hart. Son, tell me, exactly how many part time jobs are you working, and what's your name?" Holland was still sizing Lindsey up, but now he seemed interested, not in the same way that Stefan was obviously was.

"Lindsey, Lindsey McDonald. Workstudy, which this semester is admittedly a step down from the job I had in the library last semester. I volunteer time at the legal aid center, help my advisor look up legal briefs. I do take other work as I find it, but I won't commit myself to some dead end job. If you want to step out of the dirt, you can either find a staircase or look for an elevator. I'm real fond of modern conveniences." Straightening up, Lindsey wished to hell he could take the damn apron off.

At the same time, Holland and Stefan pulled out their wallets. Stefan's fingers hesitated over a room key as Holland pressed a business card into Lindsey's hand.

"Lindsey, my associates and I are hosting a dinner tonight at the Argent Hotel. There are a limited number of students invited. Join us at eight."

"Yes, sir."

***

Tearing the last thing he owned out of his closet, Lindsey still had no fucking idea where he was going to get a suit, but he was going to be damned if he didn't find something halfway decent to wear. Cursing yet again the lack of money in his pocket, his wallet, his life, he sat on the edge of the bed. Come on, think.

No roommates. Friends, he had them, but half of them didn't own a suit and the other half were at least six inches taller than he was. Shit. Even if he could afford to go and buy something, even something cheap, it wasn't like it was going to fit perfectly off the rack. Right. It was time to swallow some pride and see if he could borrow something his size.

About ten polite conversations later, he had the tenth dorm room door shut in his face. He didn't know what he'd expected--not like the rich boys did for the poor. Putting on a smile, Lindsey knocked on the eleventh door. There might be some hope behind this one. Anderson was taller than Lindsey, but they had made some deals in the past for services rendered.

"What?"

Jackson. Beautiful.

"Jackson, how you doing, didn't know you were Anderson's roommate. I was looking for him. Is he around?"

"Nah, party on the other side of town, won't be back til morning if it's the good kind."

Leaning heavily on the door jamb, Lindsey was reaching the end of his rope. "Right. Good for him. Look, I don't suppose you'd let me borrow his suit?" Like that was going to happen.

Jackson was laughing, which was fine because Lindsey was beginning to think this whole thing was pretty laughable.

"What's up McDonald, they pass a dress code for working in the cafeteria?"

Lindsey pushed himself off the door jamb and started walking away. "It's the luckiest day of my life. I somehow managed to impress some recruiters with my ability to serve cake, and now like Cinderella, I can't go to the ball."

"What?"

"Dinner interview with a bunch of other guys, and I've got nothing to wear. Somehow I don't think big law firms hire guys in jeans."

"I'll loan you my suit. I got some candied yams on it at lunch, but you can borrow it."

Lindsey stopped and slowly turned around. Searching Jackson's face, Lindsey was looking for the signs that this was a big joke, but he wasn't seeing any. "I could get it cleaned."

Leaning against the door jamb, Jackson stuffed his hand in his pockets. "Nah, I'll go to the cleaners. But...I hear you do more personal types of cleaning. I've been wondering if your mouth is good at anything besides snotty comebacks."

Lindsey could feel a hard set come to his jaw, but he nodded and walked into the room.

***

The suit fit better than Lindsey thought it would; Jackson's cock tasted worse. On a bright note though, Jackson had no stamina so it was over quick. What Lindsey was sure of was that he shouldn't ever over serve the syrup with the yams if he was planning on borrowing a suit. Fortunately, he was able to hit it with some cold water and hide most of it.

The Argent hotel was fancy--not exactly the kind of place that Lindsey was used to. He wasn't going to let that faze him because this was the kind of place he did want to feel like home. Real wood with a high polish, more flowers than a funeral home and people walking around calling him sir.

Finding the private dining room wasn't a chore. As he came in, Lindsey took a glass of wine from the bar in the corner of the room and started making the rounds, sizing up the competition. There were about fifteen students, all of them in their final year. Yup, wasn't looking good for the home team.

"Lindsey, isn't it?"

Turning around, Lindsey put on his big southern boy grin. "Mr. Manners, it's good to see you again. It's an honor to be here."

"I'm glad you could make it. We didn't have a formal interview but to tell you the truth, I don't feel we really get to know people during those sessions. It's in more relaxed settings like this that we can come to know each other better." Putting a hand on Lindsey's shoulder, Holland led him to a small side table.

Relaxed? This was relaxed? And then thinking about it a second, Lindsey realized that it could be. He wasn't about to graduate, that was a year away. No matter how good his record was, it wasn't like Wolfram & Hart were going to offer him a job tonight. On the outside, the best he could hope for tonight was a nice dinner. So Lindsey decided to relax.

"Lindsey, tell me about yourself."

Buying himself a moment by taking a sip of the wine, Lindsey ducked his head. "I earned my undergrad at UC-"

"No." Holland shook his head. "Lindsey, my firm doesn't waste its time with people that don't have a minimum amount of training. I know where you graduated from, what your GPA is, that you're planning on studying criminal law." Holland took a sip of his wine. "Tell me about you. Tell me where you coming from, and more important, where do you want to go."

Manners had a way of looking right though a person, and Lindsey wasn't sure he cared much for it. "I'm from Oklahoma, sir; not exactly from a wealthy family. To tell the truth, I grew up dirt poor and I didn't like it. Since before I left home, all I've wanted is to be on top."

"What's on top, Lindsey?" Holland was smiling just a little, but his eyes, they were encouraging Lindsey. The things that were true, the things he wanted to say weren't what you were supposed to say.

"For starters, being out of Oklahoma--a lot of guys would have called that a victory, but it wasn't good enough. To be honest, I've stopped setting goals. If you set a specific goal, you can get too focused -- it puts blinders on you. And if you get there, you'll look around and realize there's still somewhere up to go. What I've got is a vision of being on top. I'm not sure all the places it's going to take me on the way, but know where I'm going." He didn't know why he said all that, if it was something about the man in front of him or something else.

"I'm impressed. Most men your age don't come to these realizations until they're men my age. Lindsey, I have to go around, speak to the others, but you and I are going to talk about your future."

***

Future. Throughout dinner, Lindsey mulled over the word. Oh, he knew he had one, always had, but other people never actually said that to him. Guidance counselors and teachers usually said, _You've got great potential._ or _You *could* go far._ In Lindsey's book, these were far different animals from, _You have a future._ This was like being Cinderella at the damn ball, all these rich kids and him. Every once in a while he would catch a dirty look, but tonight he didn't give a shit, because the only opinion in the room that counted said he had a future.

Standing at the head of the table, Holland raised a cordial that had come with dessert. "Ladies and gentlemen, it's been a pleasure getting to know you all this evening. I have some business affairs to attend to, but that is not a cause for you to rush off. The staff will be bringing in some brandy and chocolates. My associates will be remaining, and I encourage you to enjoy yourselves."

With that Holland was gone, and Lindsey was beginning to doubt that bright future. No special talk, all apparently a polite brush off. He got a good meal out of it, not that he was sure it was worth the price of sucking off Jackson. A couple of people bolted at the first opportunity, but most seemed to be sticking around. Lindsey decided that good quality brandy could rinse distasteful things out of one's mouth so he sat back and enjoyed, trying to decide if he could go to another fancy hotel around the block and use Jackson's suit to hustle some spending money.

"Mr. McDonald."

"Mr. Andropolis." Lindsey moved to stand up, but Stefan gestured for him to remain seated, and then put a hand on the back of the chair so that he was basically hanging over Lindsey. For a moment Lindsey wondered how this looked to the others, but then decided that they were writing it off as Stefan being European, and Stefan knew he could get away with it because of that.

"Lindsey, yes? Lindsey, I hope you understand that it is rather unprecedented for a first year law student to be invited to such an affair as this. The Los Angeles branch probably hires a dozen new associates a year and only one or two of those positions will go to a candidate fresh from law school."

"It is quite an honor to be here, sir."

Stefan nodded and slipped Lindsey a small envelope. "Good, then you'll appreciate that only a few people from this room will be asked to... individual interviews." The man gave Lindsey that not so pleasant smile and walked away. Getting up, Lindsey moved to the other side of the room to discreetly look in the envelope. It was a fucking room key.

Yeah, Lindsey was betting that Wolfram & Hart was really selective about hiring prostitutes for the night, too. Decisions, decisions, an unpaid gig with Stefan or go look for a paying job down the street, Lindsey headed out of the room and towards the front door. Hesitating just before the revolving door, he considered the fact that he might at least get a letter of recommendation out of this. With a glance at the key, he turned around and headed to the elevator.

There were three other students there when he arrived in the suite, York, Pohl and Dramobec, all about to graduate. As a bonus, they looked a bit disgruntled when a fourth walked into the room. Lindsey didn't know if it was there was more competition or that he was a first year that worked in the cafeteria; he also didn't much care.

A set of double doors opened to another portion of the suite and Holland and Stefan stepped out, still in their suits but with some ornate looking robes over the top. "Gentlemen, I'm so glad you decided to join us. I trust that everyone enjoyed the meal and the brandy?" There were murmurs of ascent around the room, and Lindsey was slightly amused to see that the other three had all developed nervous twitches--little rich boys that had never had to sing for their supper. Based on the get ups on Holland and Stefan, Lindsey was betting on some ritualized S&M orgy that was about to take place. Unbelievable.

"Excellent. If you'll join us, " Holland let the statement trail off as he and Stefan turned around and entered the mystery room. The others were getting up slowly, trying to move as a pack. Lindsey, who was thinking they were more or less cowards, stood up straight and marched right in.

Oh, and it got weirder. There was a section of hardwood floor where an oriental rug had been rolled up. It was painted with all kinds of astrological mojo looking stuff that Lindsey was sure the preachers back in Oklahoma would call witchcraft. Maybe it was the brandy or the sheer ludicrousness of the whole thing, but Lindsey turned to Stefan and Holland, raising an eyebrow. Holland was blank and Stefan gave him that not-so-nice smile. Shrugging, Lindsey stepped off to the side, brushing off the front of the suit and getting comfortable.

York actually crossed himself when he walked in. Pohl was puffing out his chest, letting everyone know that he was too manly for whatever the hell was going to happen in this room. Dramobec actually looked relieved and casually stood next to Lindsey.

"Gentlemen," Holland started. "To form a corporation that will last beyond the next year, the next decade, the next century, there are certain pacts that must be maintained. At Wolfram & Hart, we are proud to say that our connections run very deep into both mundane and esoteric matters. Part of the scope of any employee's duties at Wolfram & Hart will be to attend to these relationships."

Holland nodded at Stefan who opened a closet door and pulled out a white goat on a tether. The goat wasn't looking pleased, but not nearly as much as York, who was mumbling some kind of prayer and turning green.

As Stephan tethered the goat to a ring mounted in the floor, Lindsey wanted to laugh. Was that hardware part of the normal decor or were these guys going to get a hefty room fine? Although, Lindsey had to admit that he hadn't had entertainment like this in a long time. The goat, the paint on the floor, the two guys cowering on the other side of the room, and all the while, Holland and Stefan were standing there like they were going to give closing arguments to a jury. The only thing creepy was the guy next to him, who'd gone all solemn like he was in church or something.

"Mr. Vert." Lindsey hadn't seen anyone else in the room, but something shambled out of the corner, chanting in some foreign language, a dagger in each of its _four_ hands. Yeah, Lindsey knew it had to be some kind of costume, but it was good - too good. The thing walked around the goat, which was going apeshit in the center of the now glowing circle.

At the same time, Dramobec started chanting and pulled off his jacket, just tossing it on the floor so he could roll up his sleeves. York outright fainted when _Mr. Vert_ offered him a glowing dagger.

Because Dramobec looked like he might start frothing at the mouth, Lindsey took a few steps away from the bobbing and chanting, and that's when he noticed that the guy was scarred from wrist to elbow, symbols carved crudely in his arms. Lindsey looked up at Holland who stared right back at him, measuring.

Then Mr. Vert was in front of him and the suit didn't look rubber and the eyes looked pretty damn real. The dagger was warm and pulsing in complete contrast to the cold slimy feel of Mr. Vert's hand. This little adventure was taking on a feeling all too real. It had been a long time since Lindsey had been scared shitless.

"Thank you, Mr. Vert. Gentlemen, we are standing before the altar of the demon Skuldan, who is renowned for his ability to grant academic prowess to those that provide him with an appropriate sacrifice." Holland's mouth, which had been rather stoic, transformed into a smile--a not-so-nice one. "Spring is in the air, which I believe means exams for all of you. This is a little thank you gift for coming to interview with Wolfram & Hart."

Pohl dropped the dagger and started backing towards the doors where he was stopped by two burly looking guys and another with a third eye popping through his forehead, blowing some dust into the panicking guy's face.

"No need to be concerned with Mr. Pohl or Mr. York. They won't remember anything beyond having had a bit too much brandy this evening. George, do see that they are put in a cab that will take them back to their dormitories." One of the burly men nodded and escorted Pohl from the room, while the other guard picked up York and carried him out.

Stefan's smile was now outright evil looking. "Gentlemen?"

Dramobec raced forward, running around the circle chanting loudly. While Lindsey was getting the idea of what was supposed to happen, he sure as hell wasn't going to get in the way of Dramobec's convulsions. He could see Holland whispering to Stefan, who was nodding wearily and said, "Orthodox."

After a minute, Dramobec collapsed on his knees in front of the goat, holding up the dagger in both hands. Then he just stayed there, waiting for something to happen. Holland and Stefan were looking mildly disappointed.

Stepping past Dramobec, Lindsey walked up to the pair in charge. "Mr. Manners, Mr. Andropolis, I obviously wasn't raised this way, but I'm betting that there should be goat blood messing up the floor about now."

"That would be correct, Lindsey." Holland's face didn't give away any emotion.

Stefan, on the other hand was looking annoyed. "Mr. Dramobec, let me guess. Your father always took care of this type of thing."

Dramobec spun around on his knees and in voice that he would use to order a coke at a restaurant said, "Oh no sir. My father always insisted that there were people who were professionals that should handle such... grunt work."

Stefan shook his head and whispered to Holland, loud enough for Lindsey to hear. "A family of tax accountants and lawyers."

Holland nodded and looked right at Lindsey, who stared right back. It wasn't a gift; it was a test, but Lindsey suspected that doing the obvious wasn't necessarily the right answer.

"Mr. Manners, while I am not familiar with all the benefits of... black magic, I can see that you and your firm are serious about these matters. What I haven't heard is the price of these benefits. Admittedly my very limited education in these matters has been provided by biased sources, but it seems plausible that deals with the devil do not come cheap."

"Are you sure you're interested in criminal law? It sounds as if you have a fine mind for contracts--excellent question. This is a quid pro quo situation--goat for grades. No further strings or obligations attached."

Nodding, Lindsey weighed the dagger in his hand. He always shot for the top. "Mr. Manners, while it would be nice to skip studying for my finals, I suspect your firm has need of people that actually learned the law. In addition, you're not offering me anything at the moment that I couldn't obtain on my own."

"My, my, such outstanding morals. Holland, you should have let me just give him _my_ room key and we could have tested his moral fortitude in other arenas."

"Stefan, this is where I teach you what it's like to recruit Americans, people who have been raised to believe they can do anything, be anyone." Holland was smiling at Lindsey.

"Arrogant."

Laughing, Lindsey nodded at Stefan. "Yeah, we are. What I would like, Mr. Manners, is a job, something to put on my resume when I graduate that's going to make me shine to prospective employers. I put down criminal law because standing in front of a jury with the press around would give me more visibility, and given a chance in the spot light, people are going to notice me. Frankly, being a lawyer is only a stepping stone to being something bigger, a CEO or maybe Governor or something."

Holland pursed his lips, nodding. "I can't offer a first year student a job."

Lindsey nodded; it was the answer he had been expecting all night.

"What I can do is offer a summer internship which, if successfully completed, will entitle the applicant to a substantial scholarship to finish law school and require a short term contract with Wolfram & Hart upon graduation, renewable based upon performance."

Lindsey's head was racing. Magic, creatures, sacrificial offerings, deals with the devil -- all stuff that screamed walk away. But the only place he had to walk back to at this moment was Jackson's room to return the damn suit.

"Where do I sign?"

"You have the pen in your hand."

Hefting the dagger, Lindsey locked eyes with Holland one more time and headed to the center of the circle, grabbing the struggling goat under the jaw, exposing its neck. He never thought that experience from the farm might come in handy, just goes to show that one should never miss an opportunity. "I don't know any fancy words to say this, but here's for a successful new business arrangement."

Lindsey would worry later about how to explain the blood stains to Jackson.

**Author's Note:**

> My many thanks to Wesleysgirl for the beta


End file.
